


but some boys don't listen at all

by Pemm



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, Ring of Fired, Scout's Ma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pemm/pseuds/Pemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How long had it been since he’d called his mother? Eight months? Ten?</p>
            </blockquote>





	but some boys don't listen at all

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [untitled](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/26826) by jannelle-o. 



He’d rehearsed the conversation in his head more times than he could count and he still didn’t like it. Scout was used to a lack of privacy, sure, seven brothers and eight teammates would do that, but he’d always been able to get away by himself if he really wanted. He couldn’t do that in Teufort's death row, which meant he couldn’t walk in rambling circles and talk to himself until he sort of got it to sound right. It was all stuck in his head, a confusion of thoughts and words rolling over each other.

When one of the wardens slid open his and Spy’s cell door and grunted, “Phone time, boys,” Scout almost asked him to wait.

The prison phone was a antiseptic blue, dinged and ugly and scarred with scratched graffiti. Scout stared at it for a long while until he realized he was probably on a time limit.

The buttons on the dialer were stiff and hard to press, and he messed up twice before he got the right string of numbers. Then the ringer whined in his ear, and he found himself hoping the call would go unanswered.

How long had it been since he’d called his mother? Eight months? Ten?

He hadn’t even told her he’d lost his job.

The ringing died. The phone clicked. Scout held his breath.

A voice said, “Hello?” and a hundred thousand memories ripped through him like buckshot.

It took him a moment to collect himself. Then he shook himself out and exhaled. “Uh—uh, ma, hey, it’s … me.” He cleared his throat. “Hi.”

Silence on the line. It went on so long Scout glanced down at the receiver in his hand and wondered if it had quit on him. Then his mother said his name, so quiet and broken that his head reeled. He swallowed and said, “I uh, I guess you … heard, already.”

She drew a long breath, a thousand miles away. “I heard.”

Neither of them said anything for a long time. He could almost see her shaking her head the way she always had when he’d disappointed or upset her, the way she’d press the backs of her knuckles to her mouth. The way she’d look at him, if it was real bad, like when he’d been twelve and he’d put the neighbor kid in the hospital. The kid hadn’t come out again. That was the night Scout learned his mother could cry. That he could hurt her.

He picked at the phone’s cord, staring at the wall. “… I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Me too, baby,” his mother whispered, the cracks in her voice widening with each syllable. “Me too.”


End file.
